As she laced up her basketball shoes, the white leather worn down from years of consistent use — one of the only consistent things in her life these last few years — she took a deep breath. She was the new girl yet again, back to silently slipping into the background. But here on the court, none of that mattered. School to school, city to city, no matter the place, the court was the same. The court was home.
The shrill blow of the whistle sounded above her, and it was finally time. She stood with a confidence she hadn’t felt since last basketball season. She knew she had an edge, because she had something the other players didn’t.
It was time to show everyone a new game: rez ball.
That was back in high school, and Carrie Johnson is now twenty-three years old. She just newly graduated from college, yet she consistently uses her passions and talents in basketball, journalism, and creative writing to create a more equitable future. She strives to bring awareness and appreciation to the Native American cultures in Texas and show people, no matter their age, how to use their voice.
“The highway is my home away from who knows where
I can’t remember ever belonging”
(An Indian in the Crossroads, Carrie Johnson)
Johnson’s confidence and skill led her to the United Nations, NYU, and the Indigenous Journalist’s Association. Before that there was Collinsville, Texas. Carrie had just moved there as her father was hired to be the head basketball coach. It was her tenth Texas school in 16 years, and once again she was feeling isolated: from her culture, from her community, from her reservation. “We were basically the only ones anywhere that we ever went. We were the one percent of one percent” (Johnson). It grew difficult to explain to classmates over and over again where she was from, because she had been everywhere. However, one place that she knew she could always go back to, that she knew would always be with her family, was her great-grandmother’s house.
There, her family celebrated Christmas and Easter; they made frybread and kept up traditions that ensured Johnson was always aware of and proud of her culture even as they moved. Johnson grew up with two Native parents, her mother Pawnee and her father Chickasaw and Choctaw. Her mother was a volleyball coach, and her parent’s sports expertise encouraged her to play basketball, softball, volleyball, tennis, and run cross country and track. Eventually Johnson went on to play basketball and softball at Austin College in Sherman, Texas. She had become notorious on the court, and that can be credited to her father’s coaching her in rez ball.
“Arm in arm, hand in hand, mind and mind, we share, in cupped palms,
careful and steady, as not to spill our rich culture, what the Creator gave us.”
(To an Indian, Carrie Johnson)
“Basketball, or ‘Rez Ball’ as we affectionately call it within the community, has been fully embraced by Native American tribes. It’s fast-paced, aggressive, and requires high skill and endurance. But more than that, it reflects the resilience and spirit of who we are” (Native Americans for Sovereignty and Preservation). Native Americans picked up basketball at the Federal Indian boarding schools they had been forced into for over a century. In 1860, the Bureau of Indian Affairs established the first Indian boarding school on the Yakima Indian Reservation in Washington. Their purpose was to “use education as a tool to ‘assimilate’ Indian tribes into the mainstream of the ‘American way of life’” (American Indian Civics). Their culture was beaten out of them, their hair cut and knuckles bruised. The phrase “Kill the Indian, Save the Man,” was a mantra branded into each of their brains. They found solace, however, on the school’s basketball courts.
Mainstream sports like basketball, football, and baseball were originally introduced in Federal boarding schools as key tools to turn Native kids into the ‘’ideal American”. It was meant to oppress and force them to conform to the standards they were expected to meet, but the children would not be swayed from their roots so easily. “...Young Natives perceived structural parallels between basketball and their ancestral sports, and so played this new game to connect to the old ways and score victories amidst the injustices of the white man’s world” (Davies). Rez ball became a part of Native American culture, staying with families even years after the Indian Child Welfare act was passed in 1978, giving Native American Parents the choice to pull their children from off reservation schools (American Indian Civics).
The strength that rez ball represents in Native American culture is especially personal for Johnson, considering her great-grandmother grew up in Federal boarding schools. “She was a boarding school product and ran away quite a bit” (Johnson). But rez ball is not meant to represent everything Native Americans have lost. Rez ball is meant to act as a symbol of the resilience of Native American cultures. To the people of Collinsville, Johnson looked like an exceptional basketball player, swishing three pointers from an extra five feet out, but to her family and community, she was a symbol that their culture was being passed down, celebrated, and shared with the community. “Indigenous people took weapons of assimilation and turned them into tools for tribal sovereignty” (Dr. B. Teaches).
“When I left the sport that shaped what it meant to be me i wandered bitterly and strongly into other hands that gave me meaning in other personal ways”
(When I Left, Carrie Johnson)
Johnson’s athletic talent had first steered her towards sports broadcasting, but she soon found it wasn’t the kind of journalism she was meant for. “I had actually wanted to go into college doing sports broadcasting because I’d broken a lot of records… [at] Austin College I was still pursuing that, but it didn’t hit; I didn’t feel fulfilled; I didn’t feel whole. I wasn’t passionate, and I wasn’t hungry to do it” (Johnson). While at Austin College and feeling lost, she took a class called Indigenous Perspective and Film, and it was her first exposure to Indigenous media.
Mentored by her teacher Terry Hoops, Johnson was introduced to a form of media she didn’t know existed: countless films rich with the culture of her community, and she had believed that media was limited. “I knew our tribe had its own press. I knew, of course, that there were films out there, but I didn’t know that there was such a strong community, and that it was a community that needed voices. Not just wanted, but absolutely needed… This is what I want to speak on. This is how I feel about my communities and being a Native in a non-Native area” (Johnson). Johnson soon joined the Indigenous Journalist’s Association where she became surrounded by like-minded individuals who shared her vision in increasing Indigenous voices in journalism.
“The media can facilitate the inclusion and meaningful engagement of Indigenous Peoples in society, contributing to greater respect for diversity of opinion, freedom of expression, and peaceful coexistence” (Indigenous People and the Media). This is applicable to all cultures, but is especially relevant to Indigenous cultures today. Native Americans are severely underrepresented in the press. With a population of over 476 million Indigenous peoples speaking a combined total of over 7,000 languages (United Nations) it should not be shocking to hear about Indigenous media. Yet, 73% of Indigenous media report a lack of financial resources, limiting their reach and digital expansion, and 51% face challenges that are related to high equipment costs (Strengthening Media and Indigenous Voices). All of these struggles can be traced back to an overall lack of knowledge on these institutions.
Johnson has fought to combat this ignorance since the very beginning of her career. “I wanted to be able to go into other spaces and recognize other Native kids that maybe grew up away from their community and their culture and not on the reservation, and let them know that they’re just as wanted. They’re just as needed, and they deserve just as much of a voice as anybody else” (Johnson). Not only is Johnson representing these “Native kids,” but she also represents an achievement against gender disparity. 35% of Indigenous media report a majority-female staff, but 9% employ no women, and 36% of non-Indigenous media outlets employ no Indigenous women at all (Strengthening Media with Indigenous Voices).
“I am sometimes an observer who views the representations of false ancestors on t.v.”
(To an Indian, Carrie Johnson)
Johnson is now a public relations officer for the Chickasaw Nation and is currently fighting the battle of free tribal press. Everything reported within and about the Nation is reviewed by members of the community. “It’s hard to blame them,” Johnson states. “It’s just a protective reaction to the way the mainstream media has told stories. I totally understand, but it does come to the point that my generation wants transparency” (Johnson).
This desire for transparency and representation shaped Johnson’s career and seeped into her work. Her Austin College thesis is a collection of poems detailing her personal experiences and the internal conflict she has faced growing up feeling separated from her community, and her documentary tells the story of rez ball in Federal boarding schools. She had done previous work as a documentary producer, was a mentor for the Indigenous Journalist’s Association, received an award from the association for one of her stories, and was featured on two NPR broadcasts. The most impressive accolade, however, was yet to come. Her work in advocating for Indigenous Journalists landed her an invitation to the 21st permanent forum in the United Nations Indigenous Issues in April 2025. There, she gave her allotted three minute speech at the most prestigious conference in the world.
In front of hundreds of delegates and representatives from multiple countries, Johnson argued for the importance of representation of Indigenous cultures in communities:
We call upon the UN permanent forum on Indigenous issues to: encourage states to both legally recognize the rights of Indigenous media and fully fund Indigenous media; to encourage states and all media outlets to develop relationships with our sovereign nations in order to learn and respect our culture and customs when it comes to reporting in the Nations; and finally, to encourage tribal governments to lawfully commit to freedom of press as tribal outlets are the main source of information for citizens. (IJA…)
Her impact started in Collinsville, Texas, extended to Sherman at Austin College, flew to New York City while pursuing her master’s degree in creative writing, and now landed at the feet of the UN: ready to make a difference in the world.
“And in this searching, you, who share my blood, my seeking of identity,
will weave with me a story and identity no colonizer can tear.”
(To an Indian, Carrie Johnson)
As not only a woman, but an Indigenous woman in journalism, Carrie Johnson is breaking all types of barriers to get her stories told. At only 23, she is nowhere near done yet. She will continue to play basketball because it was always more than just a hobby. “I know it’s not just a sport for me. It truly is a symbol of resiliency for our culture” (Johnson). Above all, she will continue telling stories.
The kind of stories that uplift instead of oppress.
The kind of stories that will highlight her culture.
The kind of stories that will connect with those reading and those she interviewed on a meaningful level.
The kind of stories that will leave a lasting impact on Texas.
“I wanted to be able to write something that people aren’t going to read and then sit back and move about their day without it having some sort of impact on them. I’m not just telling stories for myself, I’m telling stories for my people and my tribes” (Johnson).
Johnson’s efforts in journalism seek to ensure a brighter future for Texas Native American kids like her. Her work all stems from the Texas environments she grew up in, and she is always looking towards the future to see how her actions will affect Texas Natives for years to come. “Something that we talk about in the Native American culture is having a seventh generation mentality. What that means is that the decisions we make today affect our seventh generation, and the decisions that our ancestors have made have affected us” (Johnson). As she continues her career, she will always remember and fight for the state she called home so many different times.
Always a star athlete, Carrie Johnson struggled to see herself as anything more than a pair of basketball shoes and a high three point shot record, but she can now see how her achievements are more than something she was obligated to accomplish. In high school, she longed to branch out creatively, even dipping her toes into the UIL One Act Play world before her feet were shoved back into a pair of basketball shoes. But she knew she longed to write and carry on her culture’s legacy of storytelling, and she knew both of her passions could coexist and harmonize. Her voice does matter, as do other Native voices like hers. Carrie Johnson, the Texan academic and athletic prodigy from everywhere and nowhere all at once, has poems to write and statements to make, and her journey has only just begun.